


Night Terrors

by Mysticmataki



Series: Out of the Storm [4]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19231588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysticmataki/pseuds/Mysticmataki
Summary: She was no longer confined to the walls of the palace, but she was always at his beck and call. Years of being together, of standing side by side, and only she knew how to calm him when his moods took a turn for the worst.But when she arrives one night at his request, she doesn’t know how to cure what ails him. A cut? Simple. Fear of the unknown, of the inevitability of death? Harder than anyone could fathom.(Pre-Canon tale with Lucio and F!Apprentice who have known each other for years, longer than even Lucio and Julian)





	Night Terrors

Standing barefoot in the doorway of her shop, Catherine blinked away the sleep in her eyes as she yawned deeply and took stock of the people who had come banging on her door in the middle of the night. She had a good guess as to who she would be opening the door to, and upon seeing the infamous uniforms of the palace guards she just sighed, looking at them expectantly as she leaned on the doorframe and ran a hand through her hair. 

“I’m needed?” She said without a hint of any emotion as she tightened her shawl around her shoulders. 

The shorter of the two guards quickly began to speak, asking that she immediately come with them to the palace. She sighed as she turned on her heel when the man spoke up again, the tone of his voice shifting from informative to vaguely threatening with his declaration of, “It’s not wise to turn away. You do understand who invited you, correct?”

Catherine whirled around then, her eyes wide and alert as if that statement immediately woke her up. She took a step towards them as she appraised them, realizing that she had never seen this shorter guard before. He seemed to falter under her gaze, causing her to smirk as she looked him over again, turning to the taller guard that she had recognized from other visits. “It’d be wise to train the new guards on who I am,” she said as she placed her hand on the door, staring at him authoritatively as she continued, “So that the next time they don’t try to intimidate me with their meaningless threats.” Yawning again, she quickly said, “I’ll be out in 10 minutes,” and closed the door on them, the short guard’s eyes widening in fear, or awe, she couldn’t tell, as he turned to his partner.

She had said ten and she stepped out in eight, a new outfit on and her bag packed with various bottles, trinkets, and other things that she might need for the duration of her stay. As she walked towards the carriage, the short guard bowed his head as he opened the door for her and she slid in, the other guard inside to keep an eye on her, as if she needed the protection. As the door closed and she felt the carriage shift from the man settling down in the seat, she quickly asked, “What am I tending to tonight?”

There always seemed to be something that he was convinced only she could fix; a restless night where the horrible deeds he’d performed would play on a loop interrupting his sleep, a random pain where his left hand used to be that he should not have felt, a black eye from rough housing with Mercedes and Melchior, the reasons she had been called through the years varied from the ridiculous to the severe. She could fix these pains, she could cause him to fall into a deep sleep, these were easy to remedy. 

“The Count’s mother is rumored to have been seen in the neighboring kingdom,” was all that the guard said before he turned away and looked out the window, ending the conversation. 

Catherine stiffened at the blunt declaration and turned in silence to look at the city passing her by as she took in that information. 

This was not simple, this wasn’t an ailment that could be easily fixed. 

Fear is a powerful force. It drives people to edges they didn’t know existed, forces them to examine their own lives, and can overwhelm even the most powerful. 

It isn’t something that magic could just fix, and as she sat silently in the carriage she felt slightly numb herself. 

“How will I even be able to care for this?” she’d wondered as they pulled up to the palace which seemed even quieter than it usually did at this hour. Usually when she was called there would be a small brigade of servants waiting for her, all curious as to what the magician was going to do to “fix” the Count but this time she was greeted by silence, Nadia not even making the trek from her wing to escort her to the Count’s. 

The same two guards silently led her through the palace she knew like the back of her hand, even with the renovations that had happened since she had left, and upon entering the Count’s wing, the halls fell even more silent. As they walked down the hall she felt her heart starting to race, starting to feel the oppressive power coming from the room she assumed he was in, and when the guard unceremoniously stopped and opened the door she felt a rush of fear, pure unadulterated fear for the future and the unknown that is death pour out of the room. 

Nodding to the guards, she entered the room and waited for Lucio to address her as the door closed behind her, used to his hysterics when sick, but unsure how to act in the face of this. The room was dark, the only source of light the light of the moon that fell in through a window and a slowly dying fire, but she could tell that things had been knocked around, items shoved out of place and other objects of great value strewn across the room with abandon. She felt a pair of eyes on her and as she scanned over the room her eyes fell upon a pair of heeled boots and she paused, knowing that she had finally found him. 

He was seated on a couch in a darker corner of the room, far from the window and the waning fire in the fireplace nearly covered in the dark of the night. 

“You’re late,” he sneered from his perch, not making a single move towards her as he stared her down.

“Can’t be late if you don’t give me a time to get here,” she said as she walked towards him, knowing that he fully expected her to, stopping a few feet away from him as she sighed, putting her hand on her hip. “And to be frank, calling me away from my home in the middle of the night usually means I get here in record time.”

“You should always be ready. I can call you whenever I want you know,” he said, head tilting back a bit as he closed his eyes before quickly opening them and resuming his gaze on her.

She looked at him, eyes narrowing as she took in his crumpled shirt, his unkempt hair, and his golden arm, the outer fixture stripped off, taking away some of his seeming cruelty. There seemed to be something more human to him when he was no longer bearing the claw that at least to him represented power, control, the ultimate object to fear, and was simply stripped down to what he was, a man who had lost his arm in brutal combat and had to live with that memory for the rest of his life. Ignoring her thoughts and own memories of that, she dropped her bag on the nearby ottoman and walked closer to him, looking down when her foot kicked something hard. An empty wine bottle rolled across the floor and towards another one, knocking that down only to reveal that it too was empty. Once again she simply sighed, “Doesn’t mean I have to come.”

They looked back at each other, her with an impassive look and him with a glare only reserved for those that truly crossed him. He opened his mouth, ready to throw a sharp barb her way but she simply rose a finger to her mouth and he immediately shut his, holding back whatever he wanted to say as she approached him. She didn’t need to use magic on him, she knew that he would listen to her without the threat of a spell. As she approached, she leaned over him and plucked the nearly full third bottle from his side and the glass that he had recently poured and moved it to the table on the opposite side of him. He went to protest again but she simply shot him a look and he shut up, looking away annoyedly as he muttered something about how that was his wine that she didn’t respond to.

She sat down next to him, took a large sip from the glass she had just confiscated, and looked over to him, her gaze softening as he turned to her and she crossed her legs and leaned back, taking yet another gulp before she set it down and spoke again.

“How are you?”

He sneered and looked away again, the smell of wine reeking from his as he began to speak. “Who does she think she is, approaching my domain? I should have her hunted down and killed for this.”

“What good will that do though?”

Lucio scoffed, almost as if she had offended him by simply asking. “She’ll be gone Catherine,” he said, drawing out the ‘gone’ as if he was explaining to a child, or talking down to someone in his court. “She’ll be dead and I won’t have to worry about her ever again. Hell, I could even take my claim as the rightful heir to the tribe.”

“Again, what good will that do?” she asked yet again, just as calmly as before as she leaned on the arm of the couch, eyebrows raised as she finished the wine in the glass and turned to pour herself another.

Lucio’s eyes widened as he stuttered, “W-why you! You know what that will do! I can continue on with my life, I can reach my full potential, conquer more than she ever could!” He lunged towards her, arm reaching out before she turned towards him at lighting speed and quickly lifted her leg, pushing against his chest with her foot and effectively knocking him down with one move. “You brat!” he shrieked as he sat up, staggering as he did so, from his drunkenness or the force of her kick he would never admit.

“Before you say another word, I’m going to tell you to not call me that. Also, you’re drunk, I’m not letting you have anymore,” she said, leaning towards him as she brought the full glass to her lips. Staring him down, she lifted it up and drank the full contents of it before she let out a satisfied ‘ah’ and put the glass back on the table. Leaning back into the plush couch, she looked back to him and rolled her eyes as he stared at her confused. “I know you weren’t aiming for me, just another drink to try and dull whatever it is you’re feeling.”

He mumbled as he shuffled around on the couch, turning his back to her before he quickly dropped his onto her lap and threw his legs over the edge of the couch.

“Ah! Warning!” she said as she quickly tried to readjust herself so that he wasn’t crushing her.

“No,” he said back, perpetually a spoiled child as he turned and nuzzled his face into her stomach. “Pet me.”

She looked down with a grimace only to see him looking up at her with a blank look. She hesitated for a moment with her hands hovering above him before his gaze turned into one of begging the longer they sat there in silence. She slowly lowered her hands to his hair, running her fingers through it a few times to break up the styled pieces covered in product that already weren’t messed with causing Lucio to let out a contented sigh as he closed his eyes and smiled. “This isn’t so bad, is it Catherine?”

“You didn’t need to summon me to do this,” she muttered as she took in his features, surprised as always to see how his features softened when he laid there with his eyes closed, when a small smile spread across his lips.

“But I want to. And even though you said you don’t have to come you always do,” he said smugly. She removed her hands and his eyes shot open but it was her turn to smile down at him as she reached over and poured herself another large glass, emptying the entire bottle. “Ah, you must be feeling it already if you’re this eager for more,” he teased, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner as she rolled her eyes, taking a sip before dropping one hand back to his head and resuming her small actions.

“Shush,” she chided as he pressed into her fingertips, slightly hissing from the pressure being applied. As the sound escaped his lips a small frown dropped on hers. He acted as if he hadn’t been touched in years, as if he hadn’t felt any sense of affection in years. She lowered her hand from his head and pressed it against his cheek, causing him to open his eyes wide as she leaned over him, closing her eyes as she took a large breath in.

Fear.  
Pain.  
Anguish.  
Panic.  
Confusion.  
Longing.

The emotions came flowing from him into her and they raged through her in a rush causing her to let out a shuddered breath as she opened her eyes and looked down to him. He was looking up at her with a slight frown, and she gave him a lopsided smile as her thumb grazed his cheek. “Sorry, I promised I wouldn’t use that on you, but I can’t help you if you aren’t open about what’s going on. This isn’t something magic can fix.”

“I hate when you do that,” he said as his eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms tightly against his chest.

“What good would come from you killing your mother?” she asked again, her voice softer this time as she kept her hand on his face.

He looked away, but she could tell he was thinking over her question this time instead of pushing it away. “I won’t have to be constantly looking over my shoulder. I could sleep easy, not wondering if she’s going to somehow end up in my room and kill me in my sleep. I mean it when I say I could be a better ruler than her, I would finally have done something she hadn’t, I would be the last one standing, I would show her that I’m no weakling.” Dropping his voice, he muttered something under his breath, and with a soft,” Hm?” from Catherine he sighed out, “I would finally be free of well, a lot I guess. Maybe I could finally leave the confines of this city’s walls. Maybe we could.”

He looked back up at her. His eyes, usually prideful and full of contempt for those around him infinitely softer than she had expected, and she turned away from him, taking a sip of her drink as she thought about what he had just said. “You’re drunk,” she whispered, taking another sip to try and now drown out her own confusion, tinged with anger towards him for even suggesting that. 

“And soon you will be too,” he countered. He uncrossed his arms and brought his hand, the one of flesh and bone that he always reached out to her with, to the one that had just left his face. Grasping it gently, he brought it down to his chest and closed his eyes. His heartbeat slowed down the longer they remained in silence, him coming down from the frenzy he always threw himself in when stressed. She continued to drink, downing the glass faster than usual as they reversed roles. Her heartbeat only kept rising as she thought over his statement to her, one that only a fool would even suggest. But if he was a fool then she had to also be one, since for a fleeting moment as she finished the glass she entertained the idea of them leaving Vesuvia. 

They could go anywhere, be anyone. She wouldn’t be “The Count’s Magician” and more importantly he wouldn’t be “The Count”. Well, unless he intended to always return to his title, his riches, and his people who adored him despite the state parts of the city were in. That was always a thought in her mind- would she be able to escape that title, or was she relegated to it for life? Still unable to look at him the glass was emptied quicker than she thought it would be she could only place it on the table, letting out a deep sigh as she felt her head to begin to swim and her thoughts continuing to stray back to the past. 

Breaking the silence, she let out an angry laugh, “Guess you were right about being drunk.”

“I told you so,” he said in his usual pompous tone as he looked up and gave his trademark smirk to her. “You should stay the night, you can’t go back to that shop of your’s in this condition.”

“I can with your carriage.”

“Well, you can’t use it.”

She let out a frustrated sigh as he continued, his words now slurring as he tried to look at her seductively, but failing miserably, “We should move to my bedroom.”

“Not happening.”

“Alright, your room.”

She startled and looked down at him, a questioning look on her face as she muttered, “My room?”

“You think I would get rid of that? That’s a place for the Count’s Magician, of course it is still there. And we should move there now.”

“Same answer; not happening.”

Here he turned pouty, letting go of her hand and crossing his arms as he looked at her indignantly, “Fine then, we’ll go to a guest room.”  
“Once again Lucio: Not. Happening. You’re married.”

“And you know that means nothing.”

She sighed as she herself crossed her arms, her own words starting to slur as she began to regret drinking that much wine at that speed. “But you know it means something to me. I won’t do that even if others have no problem with it.”

They both fell silent again before their arms fell slack and her head tilted back and sank into the cushion of the couch. Her eyes closed and Lucio took his time to take her in, having not been able to see her in this state for years now. She had always been able to fall asleep wherever she was, one of her better talents she used to claim, and she looked peaceful as her breath slowed down and her hand started to grasp the hem of his shirt, fingers twisting around it delicately before she stopped, her fingertips a ghost of a whisper on his waist.

Lucio smiled to himself and turned back to her, wrapping his gold arm around the back of her waist and bringing his other towards her hip. Shooting up she looked down at him and he remained there with his head in her lap and back to resting towards her stomach. “We’ll just have to stay here then,” he said, satisfied with himself for coming up with a compromise. 

“I shouldn’t,” she started but he tutted at her and laughed.

“You’re drunk, and already able to fall asleep, and I would be a horrible host if I didn’t give you a place to sleep. And since you’re oh so adamant that we shouldn’t go anywhere else we will stay here.” He smiled smugly as he tightened his grasp on her. 

She went to speak but was interrupted by his quick “Oh!” Rubbing her face she looked down again as he proudly proclaimed, “And you can’t even tell me this couldn’t be comfortable for me. You know this arm can’t fall asleep.”

Pausing for a moment, she let out a drunken snicker before it turned into a full laugh. Lifting a leg that he rested on, she hooked the edge of the table on the toe of her shoe and pulled it closer, kicking her legs onto it and reclining a bit more into her seat. She let one hand fall to his hair and the other remained close to his hip, and he pulled her closer to him, grip tight and unyielding. With a wave of her hand, the curtains were drawn, covering them in the darkness of the room as their breaths slowly fell in synch with the other’s.


End file.
